


After Dawn

by robbie_writes



Series: After Dawn [3]
Category: The Inpatient (Video Game), Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Amputation, Animal Death, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Background Relationships, Chrashley - Freeform, Depression, Developing Relationship, Eventual Romance, Everyone Lives (Until Dawn), F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Graphic Description, Grief/Mourning, How Do I Tag, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Bad At Tagging, Injury Recovery, Inspired By Until Dawn (Video Game), Major Sam Giddings/Mike Munroe, Male-Female Friendship, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Minor Ashley Brown/Chris Hartley, Minor Character Death, Minor Emily Davis/Matt Taylor, Minor Matt Taylor/Jessica Riley, Minor Mike Munroe/Jessica Riley, Minor Sam Giddings/Beth Washington, Near Death Experiences, Nightmares, POV Third Person, Pansexual Character, Paranoia, Past Relationship(s), Post-Game(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Until Dawn (Video Game), Recovery, References to Depression, Relationship(s), Romance, Romantic Friendship, SIKE, Slow Romance, Smike - Freeform, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Surgery, Survivor Guilt, Therapy, Until Dawn (Video Game) Is Its Own Warning, Wendigo, Wendigo Hannah Washington, Wendigo Josh Washington, daring duo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26270980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robbie_writes/pseuds/robbie_writes
Summary: It has been over a month since the group returned from Mt. Washington, and even longer since any of them felt safe. Ashley refuses to leave her house, Chris is still recovering from his broken ankle, Matt has lost his confidence in himself, Emily has been ignoring any and all feelings, Jess doesn't want to talk to anyone, Mike is trying to focus on others so he doesn't focus on how hurt he is, and Sam has hardly slept a wink.As more search parties go missing searching for Josh's remains and the seven remaining friends are forced to hide the truth from the public, they struggle to face the reality of the demons in their minds. Maybe the only way they will make it through this, is together.Or maybe, their terrors will continue to live on...
Relationships: Ashley Brown & Chris Hartley, Ashley Brown/Chris Hartley, Emily Davis & Matt Taylor (Until Dawn), Emily Davis/Matt Taylor (Until Dawn), Jessica Riley & Matt Taylor (Until Dawn), Jessica Riley/Matt Taylor (Until Dawn), Mike Munroe & Jessica Riley, Mike Munroe/Jessica Riley, Sam Giddings & Beth Washington, Sam Giddings & Mike Munroe, Sam Giddings/Beth Washington, Sam Giddings/Mike Munroe
Series: After Dawn [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1902574
Comments: 6
Kudos: 54





	1. Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we're off! It's officially after dawn, and our survivors are still struggling to remember that fact. With everyone slowly recovering from their injuries, their mental trauma seems completely unchanged. As Sam sits awake one night, she gets a call from another group member who has landed themselves in a sticky situation.

As Sam flipped to the next page of her pastel green book, she felt a shiver run up her spine, making her shake slightly. With a soft sigh, she put a blank notecard down to mark her place and put the hardback down onto her bed.

Her eyes drifted across the room to the empty bed of her roommate, who commonly stayed over at her boyfriend’s frat house most nights. For this, Sam was thankful, because it meant she didn’t have to keep herself awake the whole night as to not wake the other girl with one of her nightmares.

Sam gazed around the room once more, making sure nothing was in her way for her bolt to the thermostat. She peeled the blankets away from her and leapt from the bed, sprinting across the room to the small device that hung on the wall. After raising the temperature by two degrees, she jumped back onto her bed at the speed of light.

She felt her heart unclench now that her back was pressed against a wall again, allowing her full view of the room. However, she hated that she couldn’t see down their tiny hall to their dorm room’s exit and bathroom door. Sam tried not to focus on that as she coughed, still recovering from her bout of pneumonia.

Wrapping her covers back around herself, she curled into the soft material and let out a deep breath. Ever since the events on Mt. Washington, she could no longer stand the cold. Sam used to be able to thrive in it. In fact, she preferred hiking in the winter because it was so much more beautiful. But now, the cold just reminded her of that dreaded night.

A dropped temperature felt like the grip of death was clawing at her neck again. She would instantly be reminded of what it was like wearing nothing but a towel in the depths of the lodge’s basement. Of the frigid waters she had to jump into not once, but three times. Of the reactions the nurses had when they washed the dirt off her feet, but her toes were still black.

Feeling her pulse rising, Sam frowned and tried to slow down her breathing, focusing on the one discolored spot above her roommate’s bed where a strawberry smoothie had been splashed at the beginning of their first semester there.

The techniques she had tried to search for on Google were useless to her. She still felt her hands getting clammy, still began to shudder, still heard her heartbeat in her damaged ears. Sam felt like she was slowly losing her mind. That it was only a matter of time before she would end up like Josh, torturing her friends out of confusion and spite.

Her entire body trembled in horror at the sound of tapping coming from the window between her and her roommate’s beds. Sam quickly snatched her brand new phone into her hand and shook it twice, prompting its flashlight to come on. She directed the beam over to the glass, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of the same tree branch it had been the last three times she checked that night.

She felt pathetic for getting scared by something so simple. Something she heard at least five times a day. Something she knew happened from her first semester in that dorm. But even though she knew it was just a tree every time, there was still a small voice in the back of her head wondering if it was the elongated nail of a Wendigo, trying to get her to move so they could grab her by the throat and impale her through the abdomen with their arm.

Sam brought her phone back to her lap, and just as she pushed the button to turn off the flashlight, an unknown number flashed across her screen. She knew it wasn’t the police station near Blackwood, because she had saved their digits into her phone two weeks prior when they harped on her about not answering their calls.

Out of 1 part curiosity and 2 parts boredom, she pressed the green “Accept” button and raised the phone to her left ear, as the right was far more damaged.

“Hello?” She called into the receiver.

“I didn’t think you’d actually pick up.” One of the last voices she expected to hear came from the other line.

“Mike?” Sam couldn’t hold back her surprise, or confusion.

If the group that survived the events of Mt. Washington hadn’t been communicating often before, they were dead silent with each other now. The last she had heard from any of them was nearly three weeks ago when Chris gave her an update on how his broken ankle was.

Over a brief meeting for coffee a month prior, Sam had heard from Emily when returning one of the girl’s textbooks that Michael had been acting differently ever since their return. She explained that he started going with Matt to the gym, who had been discouraged going back after a few weeks off.

Matt told her that he was always around, offering help when anybody needed it. That he would drive Chris to and from his doctor appointments, wait in the car during all of Jessica’s physical therapy, and try to encourage Ashley through her bedroom door to leave her house, since she refused to see him face to face.

Before the events in Blackwood, Michael was hardly ever around. He had his own apartment nearby his college (which he was currently no longer attending) and would only come back briefly on the weekends to spend time with Emily when they were still together.

Other than that, he was like a ghost to the group. He was easily the most adult out of all of them, despite not being the most mature. Although, this was only to be expected after his father went to jail during their sophomore year.

“I’m sorry if I woke you.” Mike’s voice sounded strained as he spoke. It wasn’t with the intensity it had in Blackwood, but it surely wasn’t his usual carefree tone.

Eyeing the clock on her desk that read _1:52 AM_ , Sam replied, “I was already awake.”

“Oh.” Is all he said in response, completely having lost his smooth talking skills since last month. That mountain had changed them all in more ways than one, in far more complex areas than any of them expected.

“So…” Sam trailed off, afraid of the answer to the question she knew she had to ask. “Why are you calling?”

The slightly younger of the two sighs. “I need your help.”

“Michael, it’s two in the morning. Could you be more specific?” The light tone of annoyance in Sam’s voice makes him laugh.

And upon hearing it, Sam realizes that she doesn’t even know the last time she laughed. The last time she heard anyone laugh, to be perfectly honest. Nobody had let their guard down enough around her to let humor come in. She wants to hear the beautiful sound again.

“Sorry, it’s been a long day.” His voice sounds more tired than she’s ever heard it before. “I got into a fight and the police are detaining me until someone comes to bail me out.”

She smiles softly when she thinks of another way to hear her new favorite sound. “Did you win?” Her grin doubles in size as he chuckles,

“Of course I did.”

In less than an hour, Sam found herself exiting a police station with a slightly intoxicated Michael in tow. She lowered down into her small, silver car and quickly put the keys in the ignition to get the heat running again as he watched her with interest.

Her eyes met his, and she could instantly tell that he was just as exhausted as he sounded. Dark bags run beneath his brown eyes and a beard has begun growing out. His hair is a mess, looking as though he had put his hands through it about a thousand times before she got there.

Sam didn’t realize he was talking to her until he placed his hand gingerly on her arm and asked, “Are you okay?”

She blinks at him, suddenly noticing the wetness in her eyes. Her heart pushes her arms to reach over the console and wrap around Mike. He follows her motions, his own hands meeting behind her back. Sam can feel his face pressed into the small amount of exposed skin on her neck. The feeling of his warm skin against her own brings her more comfort than she thought it would.

He smells of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and something she can’t quite put her finger on. Usually, the first two scents are what drive her away from certain people and places. However, on Michael, they are oddly soothing.

The two of them stay like this for a few minutes, speaking no words to each other besides their consistent breathing patterns. Neither wants to be the first to let go, but Sam eventually forces it to be her.

“I didn’t realize how much I missed you.” He is the first one to talk.

“Ditto.” She nods at him, making a soft smile dance across his pink lips.

Mike reminds Sam of his address before she pulls out of the parking lot and onto the dark street. The radio plays a song that she has heard a thousand times before, and she can’t help looking at her passenger out of the corner of her eye when he half mumbles/half sings along.

She had forgotten how good his voice sounded, even though he wasn’t really trying. It was easy to forget how musical he was when he looked like a typical jock. In reality, he was the biggest closeted band nerd in school.

Their junior year, he would pretend to come to the band room to do his homework during study hall when in reality, he was constantly paying attention to the music theory lectures, absorbing any and all information he could get his hands on. Michael Munroe was the definition of a virtuoso.

Sitting in the car with the boy she hadn’t talked to in a month and a half was strangely calming. She didn’t feel the need to constantly be looking over her shoulder with him beside her. And to Sam, this was terrifying.

Samantha Giddings was likely the most independent person in their friend group. She could take care of herself and relied on nobody else to keep her afloat. Of course, she liked being around the others, but she could always manage by herself. Since Mt. Washington, this seemed to be anything but the truth.

The closer the two got to Michael’s apartment, the more they both remembered the last time they had been there together. Despite the fact that he was the only one in the group who was American, he insisted that they all come for Thanksgiving.

Out of the seven that were invited, Sam, Ashley, and Jess were the only ones to attend. They could tell he was bummed about it, so they quickly insisted that they make their own pumpkin pie once they finished dinner.

Mike said he was finding flour around his apartment until New Year’s, but their plan had worked and he had cheered up with their horrible attempt that ended with them just buying a pie from the store once they nearly set fire to his oven.

As Sam pulled the car into park, she felt a large yawn coming on that she was unable to hold off. Rubbing the tired out of her eyes, she turned to Michael and smiled, hoping that they could see one another again soon.

“It’s late, you should come up to my place.” He said after yawning himself in reaction to Sam.

“Jess isn’t staying over?” She asked.

“She’s not leaving the house much.” He shrugged, ripping eye contact away from her. “I’ve got a pull-out couch, it wouldn’t be any trouble.”

“I don’t know…” Sam’s thoughts instantly went to the nightmares that plagued her mind every time she slept since getting off that stupid mountain.

They consisted of every single horror she and her friends went through that night. Sometimes she was being chased through the basement by Josh. Sometimes she was getting sawed in half, only her body wasn’t fake. Sometimes she fell to the bottom of the mine shaft.

And sometimes, she was the one turning into the Wendigo.

Each time she woke was the same. Screaming loud enough that it hurt her throat. Drenched in sweat, but somehow being as frigid as the water she had to walk through. Afraid to even blink, as that was far too long to be in the dark.

There hadn’t been a night that went by where she didn’t have a nightmare. She went to sleep dreading the time she would wake up, knowing she would be so scared she couldn’t move, out of fear that a Wendigo hiding in the hallway would see her.

It was often that Sam didn’t go to sleep once her nightmare woke her. In fact, it was even more often that she delayed going to bed for as long as possible because she didn’t want to wake up in a panic again. It was rare that she got more than three hours of sleep every night.

Due to the fact that she now became claustrophobic in the dark, if her roommate was sleeping in their dorm, Sam would make a break for the bathroom the second she fell asleep so she could turn on the lights. She’d take one of her blankets and lay down in the bathtub, reading until she could no longer keep her eyes open.

The brave Samantha Giddings everyone knew, was now a stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! First chapter!
> 
> I want to say that I will try to update weekly, perhaps on Sundays, but I can't promise it will be super consistent. Corona has really messed up many of my plans and my mental health, so I'm not always feeling up for writing.
> 
> But I do have lots of ideas for where the story will go! Some of which consist of my favorite ship slowly coming together, others contain more lore from Mt. Washington and the group trying to ensure that the police find Josh, alive or dead. However, this gets pretty complicated when nobody knows the truth of what happened on the mountain except for them and the authorities.
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	2. Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike has invited Sam to stay over at his place for the night, but forgets to mention that he has been having just as many nightmares as her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***TRIGGER WARNING***  
> Implied alcohol abuse. Please read at your own risk.

Despite her hesitancy, Michael wasn’t taking no for an answer, and Sam soon found herself sitting on an armchair as he threw one last blanket over the mattress pulled from under his couch cushions.

“Tada!” Mike happily presents the messily made bed with a wide grin on his face. Sam finds herself clapping at his accomplishment as he takes a bow before collapsing on the other chair across the coffee table.

His apartment is about ten times cleaner than it was the last time she had step foot inside. He wasn’t overly messy, but he just hadn’t had much time to clean previously. Now that he was taking off for the semester, Sam wondered what he occupied his time with.

And a question was twirling around the back of her head, one she felt shy asking for some reason. However, she was too curious not to get an answer.

“I have to ask,” she began, bringing Michael’s attention back to her. “Why did you call me?”

He smiles weakly at her, “You’re the only one I thought would pick up the phone.”

Sam furrows her eyebrows in confusion. “Really? How come?”

“Everyone else is...not there? I guess?” His eyes refuse to meet hers, no matter how much she wants them to.

“Even when you’ve been there for them like you have?” She inquires and immediately notices the shock on his face. “Your actions aren’t going unnoticed, Michael. I’ve heard what you’ve been doing for everyone.”

“I just…” He trails off. “Wanted to make up for everything.”

“Make up for what? You haven’t done anything wrong.” Sam tells him.

“Thanks for saying that, but I know the truth. I’ve done some really shitty things.” Mike responds sadly.

“You’re not the only one who did things on that mountain.” She tries to remind him.

This is when he finally makes eye contact with her, and what she sees makes her want to hug him again. “You held someone at gunpoint? Threatened to take their life away? What if my finger had slipped? My hands almost killed somebody.”

He frowns, eyes beginning to turn glassy with tears. She had never seen him cry before, and she wasn’t about to let it happen tonight. She quickly rises from her seat and walks to him, leaning down and wrapping her arms around his shuddering frame.

“And yet, I trust them completely.” She whispers against the side of his head.

The look in Michael’s eyes was the same that appeared in Beth’s during their junior prom. Sam had seen her split away from the group and exit the gym rather hastily, which she knew was never a good sign.

Beth was relaxed, good at keeping her cool. It was rare that she rushed on her way to places even if she was running late and still, she always managed to show up on time. This was something that often drove Sam crazy, as she could never do the same.

By the time she excused herself from the rest of the group and left the room, the door to the girls’ bathroom was swinging with the speed the younger twin had gone through it with. At that sight, Sam was truly worried.

When she went inside, Beth was hardly able to keep herself standing as she supported herself with one of the sinks. Her shoulders were shaking, her face covered by a waterfall of brown hair. From a few feet away, Sam could feel her pain ricocheting off the walls and hitting her in the face.

She gulped, “Beth?”

Immediately, the brunette snapped to look at her. A hand cupped over her mouth, trying to hold back a sob that was about to come ripping through her lips. With one less hand to support herself, her knees were wobbling beneath the material of her dark blue dress.

Sam managed to rush forward and catch her before she fully collapsed, practically cradling the girl’s head in her arms as she began to weep. At the sound of her falling apart, she nearly began to tear up. Never had she heard such a noise that hurt her heart so much.

Nobody interrupted them. Maybe they could hear her cries from outside, or maybe the two of them were meant to share that brief period together. Maybe from the minute they met in the first grade, they had been building up to that moment.

To the time that Beth’s tears began to slow. To when Sam softly lifted her head up, hands on either side of her face. To the exact second that their lips touched for the first time.

The look in their eyes that was shared by Beth that night, and Michael now, was a person on the verge of losing themself.

Eventually, Mike calmed down enough that Sam felt confident that he wouldn’t fall apart as soon as she let go. He soon admitted that while it took five drinks to get him really drunk, two just made him tired and emotional. With the softest of “thank yous” and a squeeze on her shoulder, he was off to his own room to bunk down for the night.

Sam let out a breath, glancing around the main room of the apartment. Nearly every light was turned on, which made her wonder if he shared her same fear of the dark. It was comforting to think that maybe she wasn’t the only one struggling to return to normal after stepping out of that helicopter.

Most of the group was hardly home for a full week before those in college had to move in for the spring semester and the three still in high school couldn’t take more time off. Emily and Sam were the only ones to return to university full-time. Chris opted to go part-time with his multiple surgeries and physical therapy. Matt went back to public school, but Ashley and Jess were now completing their senior year online.

It was strange. In the police station and the hospital, all Sam wanted was her family. She wanted to get away from the others and stay in her home for the rest of eternity. However, within a day of being back, everything was different.

Her parents and older sisters seemed to be walking on eggshells around her. She knew they were only trying to help, but they were driving her mad. They were afraid of saying something wrong, which prompted them to hardly talk at all. When they did, it was either assurances that they were there when she needed them, or topics so boring that it made her want to leave.

The only things that had hardly changed at home were her relationships with her dog Pancake, who merely became more clingy, and her baby brother, Hunter. At six years old, he didn’t know how badly she was hurt or that one of her friends was missing, likely dead. He just knew that she was sad and would make her get well soon cards during his art classes and find pretty flowers or cool rocks during recess to give to her. Even though he didn’t entirely understand, he did the best job of cheering her up.

But the rest of her family was suffocating. She didn’t want to see them in the slightest and thus, she hadn’t returned home on the weekends once since moving in. They were constantly calling and texting, trying to check in with her and make sure she was okay. Sam didn’t know how to tell them that no, she wasn’t okay. And she didn’t know if she ever would be again.

As she began to wonder if any of them would be the same again, the sound of glass shattering from Mike’s room had her freezing in her place.

Without moving her head, she looked at the clock above the TV to see that it had only been about an hour since he had gone to bed. Her heartbeat was pounding in the sides of her head and she could feel her nails digging into her leg.

Sam’s breath caught in her throat, hearing Michael yell incoherently. While one half of her was screaming for her to run in and see what was going on, the other was begging for her not to move.

Don’t move. _Don’t move._

She whipped her head around to either side of her, seeing no Wendigos in sight. Her legs trembled as she got to her feet ever so slowly. She was close to hyperventilating and if she shook much harder, Sam was sure she would cause an earthquake.

Each step she took towards the door felt like a death sentence. With every one, she had to stop and make sure that Josh in a mask hadn’t suddenly appeared with a gas canister. The only grip she had on reality soon became the doorknob to Mike’s bedroom.

This was one of her worst nightmares. Being stuck between her biggest fear, and the people she loved. These are the things that her night terrors were about previous to Mt. Washington. Now, it seemed like she was living a nightmare every single day.

Sam began to feel faint as she twisted the doorknob and slowly pushed it open. She grabbed onto the doorframe to steady herself, looking into a room she had never seen before. A double bed was in the middle, a bookshelf against the wall, a wooden desk with a laptop, and a cork board on wheels that was half covered with loose papers and photographs.

Before she could begin to wonder what the hell it was, Sam saw shattered glass on the floor and Michael nearby the window. His hands were clenched onto the ends of the bookshelf, eyes squeezed shut tightly. He was close to tipping the entire thing over, which would have collapsed right on top of him.

“Mike,” Her voice sounded more afraid than she wanted it to. He didn’t respond. “Michael?”

As she tiptoed closer, she could begin to make sense of a few of his mumbles. “I have to...get.. out- I-”

His grip on the shelf tightened and Sam couldn’t help but let out a gasp as it began to tip. Sam made a jump over the glass, using her back to keep the bookshelf upright as she took the side of Mike’s face into her hand. “Michael, wake up!”

Two brown eyes shot open and the boy quickly backed away from her, tripping over his own feet and narrowly landing on his bed. His face held nothing but pure shock as Sam began to put together his garbled words in her mind: “I have to get them all out of here.”

_Did he have the nightmares, too?_

“Mike-” She started to speak, but he quickly got up and left the room so fast she was sure he would step on the shards of glass. As she looked down, her eyes landed on the shattered picture of what had likely been his family before he was forced to move here.

Sam felt scared to move once again. However, she eventually made it to the doorway. She could hear Michael rummaging in the kitchen before he popped up behind the counter, a dustpan in his grip. She frowned, stepping forward and grabbing it from him.

“Stop.” She tried looking up into his bloodshot eyes, but they were focused on absolutely everything but her. “Let me. You go sit down.” He didn’t say anything in reply, merely turning on his foot and stalking back to the kitchen.

Back in his room, she was careful to step around the glass before leaning down to swipe the pieces into the small, red pan. The photograph was clearly old from the obvious fading of color over the years.

Michael, who couldn’t be older than twelve at the time, was standing in front of what looked like a field of corn. In his arms was a young toddler with just enough hair to be pulled into a pigtail on top of her head. Three little girls surrounded him, one on each side and one in front of him. Behind him, wearing a floral dress, was a beautiful woman who looked much like he did. Sam didn’t think she had ever seen him smile as wide as he was in that picture.

She knew that he had moved from a southern state in America to White Rock between elementary and middle school, but which one, she couldn’t remember. However, she did know that his father was the only one that had come with him. They had moved in with his paternal grandparents, which is why he usually never wanted anyone to come to his house. He was always going to others’.

There was very little Sam knew about Mike when she really thought about it. She didn’t know why they had moved here, where his mother was, if those girls were his sisters, or why his father had gone to jail. A part of her was afraid to know the answer to all these questions and if the answer was the entire reason why she knew so little about him. If all those questions were somehow connected in the same, horrible way.

Trying to keep herself from reading too much further into it, out of the fear that her suspicions could be correct, Sam quickly brushed the glass into the trash can by the door and left the picture on the desk, facing upside down so he wouldn’t know she had seen it.

When she returned to the main room, Michael was behind the island counter with a bottle of beer to his lips. She scowled, placing the tiny broom and dustpan down before going up to him and taking it from his hand.

“What the fuck?” He immediately tried to reach around her to take it again, but Sam took one step back and flipped the bottle over, emptying the rest of it into the sink. “That was expensive, you know.”

“You shouldn’t be drinking right now.” She told him as she set the bottle down.

“What? Suddenly you’re an expert on my problems? I didn’t know you changed your major to psychology.” He remarked.

“Don’t be an ass, I’m trying to help you.” She snatched one of his wrists and dragged him over to the pull-out couch where she pushed him onto it and tossed one of the blankets over him.

“What are you doing?” Mike furrowed his eyebrows at her.

“If you need to drink to be able to sleep, that’s a serious problem.” Sam dropped herself into the nearby chair, picking up her phone once more. “I’m going to watch you to make sure you don’t destroy your house.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.” He rolled his eyes.

“Then tell me what else you want me to do.” She snapped. “Seriously, Michael, because you scared the shit out of me. You’re 6 foot 2 and you go rampaging when you sleepwalk?”

“Thanks for not using the metric system, you know it offends me.” He smirked lightly.

“Why aren’t you listening to me?” She groaned in frustration.

“Because it’s my problem and I don't want your help.” He retorted, his anger heavy in his tone.

Sam could only shake her head in disappointment and unlock her phone, going back to the book she was reading when the glass woke her. She didn’t know why, but she felt like crying. How could he possibly infuriate her so much that she wanted to cry? Nobody could ever do that to her. She was better than that, she was level-headed, she didn’t care what others thought.

So why does this bother her so much now?

She was feeling overwhelmed with emotions, many of which she hadn’t felt for a long time. And so many questions floated around in her head, taking up so much space that it seemed like she didn’t have room to even think. Sam wanted answers, but she was afraid to get them.

Beth would always try to get her to slow down, to get her mind off of everything else and relax. This was near impossible for Sam to do and it took months of trying before the girls managed it. The solution usually involved very minimal clothing in a bath overflowing with bubbles with music turned up loud enough that those outside couldn’t hear them laughing, talking and occasionally love making.

In the year since their disappearance, Sam has tried everything in her power to recreate that same kind of peace. That same sense of security and comfortability that she found nowhere else. She hasn’t been able to remake it, as to drive her bad thoughts away, it usually takes her music being turned up all the way, which then of course drowns the good ones out.

She missed Beth with every piece of her heart. She wished they were together longer. Wished they could have experienced more. Wished they felt brave enough to tell everyone about their relationship.

Instead, they were the only ones that knew. Everyone was in the dark about it, including Hannah herself. Sam kept it a secret even after their disappearances, until she eventually broke down and told her mom the day the police called off the search. She had cried so hard that the capillaries under the skin around her eyes began bleeding. Her mom had to force sleeping pills down her throat for her to be able to stop.

Thinking of that day shot a shiver up her spine, as it always did. She was thankful her dad and Hunter had been on a fishing trip. Her mother desperately wanted to tell her father what had happened, but Sam begged her not to. She swore her to secrecy, ready to fight to the end of the earth to keep her relationship with Beth away from everyone. It was something for them, and for them only.

“Hey,” Mike suddenly speaking caused Sam to nearly jump off the chair, breaking her away from her thoughts. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What?” She asked with much more harshness in her tone than she meant to.

“What are you reading?” He inquired, his head propped up with his hand now that he was laying down on his side.

“Um…” She actually had to look at her phone to remember. She was so consumed by her own thoughts that she hadn’t paid attention to a single word she read. “It’s poetry, not a story.”

“Sounds good to me.” He shifted on the bed a few times until he was laying on his stomach, chin resting on the pillow, staring at Sam with expectant eyes. “Well, are you gonna read or not?”

“You want me to read you poetry?” She’s not sure whether to find this amusing or adorable.

“Yep.” He nods with assurance. She takes another glance at him, waiting patiently for her to begin. His eyes are tired and glossy, his scars still dark enough that they don’t blend into his skin yet. He smiles ever so lightly at her, and this is when she decides that it is most definitely adorable.

As Sam begins to read, listing both the author and the title before continuing onto the poem, she finds herself still unable to pay attention to the words. Her thoughts are too drowned out any time Mike makes a small remark, laughs at a certain line, or hums contentedly when he finds the ending as good as he expected.

She has quickly gotten herself confused, thinking of Michael in this sense. When did his smile become so contagious? When had his jaw become that square? His eyes so captivating? Sam tries to tell herself that this is merely her exhaustion speaking, but she wonders if this is really true when she gets to the last poem before her battery dies.

“This one is by Paul Perry, it doesn’t have a name listed.” She reads, unaware that Mike has already fallen fast asleep.

_Tonight  
the careless ocean  
breaks shallow breaths  
in this fleeting darkness.  
The intricate spiral  
of my twisted footsteps  
speaks depths to my confusion.  
Am I falling?  
Have you fallen?  
Or is it just an illusion?_

Before Sam has a chance to continue to the next poem, her phone begins to shut down, showing the brand name before the screen goes black. She lets out a soft sigh and glances at her friend on the bed merely two feet away.

From her chair, she can see the lines that have been etched into his face. One parallel underneath his left eye, narrowly blinding him. Another rests on his right cheekbone. The deepest of the scars on his face is on the right corner of his mouth. And the last, though covered by the pillowcase, she knows lay on the side of his left cheek, close to his ear.

Two scratches, still bright red, with their stitches haven been taken out just a few weeks ago, rest on the right side of his neck. They still look fiery and angry, the marks of a Wendigo that got too close. Finally, the two missing fingers on the hand dangling off the side of the bed. The bandages are gone, but the swelling and bruising is still obvious. Sam doesn’t even want to imagine how much they hurt.

As she counts the scars carved into his body, watches the way that he breathes, she finds herself drifting off to sleep. And you can only imagine her surprise when she wakes in the morning on the bed with Mike, without a nightmare anywhere in sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I just need to bring up the fact that Brett Dalton (Mike) is 6'2" and Hayden Panettiere (Sam) is 5'0". Literally wtf. I love me a big height difference.


	3. All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After nearly two weeks of not seeing each other, Mike and Sam end up at the same place by chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***TRIGGER WARNING***  
> Implied self harm/suicide attempt. Mentions nausea, throwing up and needles. Please read at your own risk.

A week and a half had passed, and Sam and Mike had messaged each other approximately twice since they shared his pull-out couch. Michael, who had woken throughout the night, saw Sam curled onto the chair looking uncomfortable, and moved her to the bed. He decided not to tell her that she had been whimpering in her sleep.

Their first set of texts was exchanged later that night, once Sam had been back at her dorm and Mike spent the day buying a new picture frame, going to the gym with Matt, getting lunch with him, and trying to talk with Jessica. Despite his attempts, she didn’t want to speak about what happened in Blackwood Pines. In fact, she didn’t want to talk at all.

Sam messaged him asking what the board in his room was. Michael wanted to play it off like it was nothing, but he knew she wasn’t going to let it go. He explained that he was still trying to piece together what exactly had happened in the mines and the Sanatorium. He felt like he knew so much, and yet, so little.

The board was as much of a mess as the story was in his head. He listed all the names of people he could remember, tried drawing what the Sanatorium’s floor plans were (it looked like a first grader made it), and was having a hard time keeping what he learned while there and what he learned from reports on the internet separate.

When Mike was getting sick of focusing on all the things he didn’t know, he decided to start looking in the places he _did_ know. And this involved texting Sam four days later, asking her to tell him everything she could remember about the stranger’s journal.

They had since learned from the police that his name was Jack Fiddler when they managed to recover the book and get his fingerprints off of it. Michael knew, however, he wouldn’t have a chance of getting his hands on it until the case was either resolved or turned cold. So, he was stuck with asking Sam, knowing Ashley wouldn’t want to tell him even if she did remember.

Their messages felt emotionless, like they were strictly business, and not between two friends. Mike began to wonder if maybe he shouldn’t have asked her at all. Maybe he should have just been a normal person and asked if she wanted to go get coffee or see a movie like a regular friend would. But his mind felt like it wasn’t his own those days.

To try and drown out this unfamiliar brain inside his head, he was where you would usually find him on Tuesday and Friday nights, the Little Bell Club. It was the first place Josh took him to when he turned eighteen and he had been itching to take him there since Sam hadn’t wanted to go when it was her birthday two months prior.

It quickly became their usual go-to as more of the group turned eighteen and they felt like going out for the night. They had live music playing Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays while they had a DJ the rest of the week. The food wasn’t always that great, but they usually made up with it with the good bands they hired and drinks that weren’t terribly expensive.

Mike was onto his third drink of the night, this one being vodka mixed with a Coke. A small TV behind the bar was playing whatever football game happened most recently, not that he was really paying attention to it. He usually spent his time people-watching and laughing at those who got way too drunk.

Occasionally, a pretty looking girl would try to come up and flirt with him, but he didn’t flirt back. It wasn’t even that he felt bad about Jessica, it’s that he just _didn’t care._ For one of the first times since he hit puberty, he wasn’t thinking about the next kiss he was going to get. The next time his fingers slid through the ones of a girl he cared about. He wasn’t thinking about any of that.

Instead, his mind was still on those mountains. On the wolf he hoped was still alive. On Josh, and if they would ever find him or his body. The more time went on, the more Mike doubted he was alive. A part of him hoped that he was dead, because otherwise he would have likely succumbed to the Wendigo spirit by now. He didn’t want to think about that.

Rather than that, Michael tried to come up with what his excuse would be the next time someone asked him what the hell happened to his fingers. It had become a running joke between him and the bartender to think of something different to say every time. When the person left, the man behind the bar would ask if it was the truth that time. Mike would simply shrug and say, “I don’t know.”

One time, he said his fingers got slammed in a car door. Another, that he taped a firework to his hand and when it went off, it took his two digits with it. To a particularly wasted guy, Michael explained that he got into a fight with a gang leader who bit them off. That one was the bartender’s favorite thus far. He had been drinking water at the time and ended up spitting it all over the floor.

On his way back from the bathroom with his drink in hand (because even guys can get roofied), Mike tried his best to skate around the people dancing to whatever 90s rock song was currently being played. However, he ended up colliding with another man, which sent both of their drinks to the floor.

“Oh, fuck.” Michael grumbled.

“What the hell?!” The guy shouted angrily.

Mike sighed. He was too tired to deal with this. “I’m sorry, man. I’ll buy you another one, what’re you drinking?” Before he even knew what was happening, he was clutching onto his throbbing jaw in reaction to the punch that was just thrown. “Dude! Seriously?!”

He had hardly finished the word when the stranger began lifting another fist. However, Michael quickly was able to dodge this one and slug him in the side of the abdomen. As he turned to walk towards the bar, he was kicked in the back of the leg, which nearly sent him toppling over. He was going to continue leaving the situation, but his plan changed when the man grabbed his shoulder to turn him around.

Without thinking, Mike turned the opposite way and flung his left hand into the man’s nose. He instantly realized his mistake, gritting his teeth as black spots clouded his vision with the intense pain. He thought he would throw up, it was so bad, but this wasn’t the case.

The stranger took the advantage of his disorientation to punch him once again. Unable to stop himself once he started falling, Michael’s head hit the side of a nearby table on his way down and he was out before he hit the ground.

His unconscious mind, for a reason he was unaware of, turned him to the hospital when they were done at the police station. He, Chris, Ashley, and Matt were in the main room of the emergency room where other patients still came. They looked at the four of them like they were insane. Their eyes widened when they walked through the doors, followed by three gurneys.

Emily, Sam and Jess had each been taken to their own trauma room, keeping them mostly hidden from the others. All of the adrenaline, all of the different hormones flowing through their veins had kept them stable until that point. Kept them alive. But when they were finally given their own beds and doctors came up to each of them, that’s when they knew it was done.

Their conditions had begun to deteriorate rather quickly now that their bodies received the message that they no longer had to fight. Ashley started having back-to-back panic attacks, Matt’s wounds began leaking more blood, Chris was groaning from the pain in his leg, and Mike himself could hardly stay conscious.

He was quickly pumped full of pain medication, so most of the experience was hazy until he was at home and on a different kind through a pill than they had given him in the IV. Though there wasn’t anymore pain, he could still feel the needle going into and out of the skin on his neck. They were all given heating blankets, but Michael had to change into a hospital gown to get out of his damp clothes for them to be able to start treating his minor hypothermia.

He wasn’t sure if it was doctors or nurses that had to stay to help him when they pulled the curtain shut, but he could vaguely remember begging them not to take his clothes off. He was already so cold, he wasn’t sure he’d survive. However, with all the drugs, he wasn’t exactly in a position to hold them off.

Mike took every blanket they offered him. They wanted to bring warm water for the frostnip on his fingers and toes, but Matt told him he was convinced that it would be cold and nearly smacked one of the nurses in his high state until she proved it was warm by letting only a drop fall onto his hand. Apparently, he nearly started crying out of happiness and hugged the nurse, which he denied ever happening, but Matt got Chris to confirm it.

The doctors closed the curtains again when a specific surgeon with a funny name he couldn’t remember came to take the bandages off his left ring and pinkie fingers. He refused to look when they undid them, knowing he had done a hack-job. They were quickly recovered and the doctor explained to a very loopy Mike the process of getting a skin graft from his inner thigh to cover the nubs of his fingers in a surgery the following morning.

But sitting in the ER, looking around at all of his friends and the shocked patients that hadn’t gone through what they just had, he knew he was staring at the trauma room of a specific blonde girl. However, you can imagine his shock when he was off the heavy drugs, when he realized that blonde hadn’t been Jessica.

It was Sam.

Michael came-to in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. He quickly told them through gritted teeth what medications he was allergic to and what he was taking before they pumped him full of drugs so fast he was off to sleep again. He didn’t dare to look at his fingers.

This time, his thoughts were full of Sam in particular. She was in trouble, that he knew, but he couldn’t get to her. He was stuck or tied down or maybe even paralyzed as he watched from afar. He wanted to call out to her, but no matter how loud he screamed, she couldn’t hear him.

She was in what he pictured her dorm room looked like. Neat, organized, with everything put away exactly where it should be. A vase with a flower in it rested on her desk, along with a row of books she would read if she ever had the time. The dream-catcher Hannah made for her 15th birthday was hanging over her bed, like it had when she lived at home. She was smiling.

But then he blinked.

Suddenly, her room was a mess. Papers strewn about, posters half hanging from the walls, a drawing her brother gifted her crumpled up. Clothes covered every piece of furniture. The nicnacs she had spent so many delicate hours setting up and tearing down and putting somewhere else were broken on the floor. This time, Sam was in the middle of it all with eyes closed and a mouth stitched shut.

Michael woke with a start, inches away from smacking himself in the face. The IV in the crook of his elbow was pushing medication into his veins to keep away the pain, but there were still sensations he had that he wished would go away. The pins and needles in what was left of his fingers. The pressure he felt suffocating his head.

He didn’t want to look at his hand, but he knew he had to eventually, so he drew in a deep breath before glancing down. They were re-bandaged, something that he had only gotten free of three weeks ago. Despite the gauze, he knew they were bleeding again. He could feel it. After so long of waiting for them to close, for the stitches to come out and the swelling to go down, they were back at square one.

Mike wanted to scream in frustration, but he didn’t as he laid his head back and tried to blink the fuzziness out of his eyes. He felt drained and nauseous and honestly, just wanted to go home. But he knew that even if he went there, he wouldn’t feel any better. In fact, he would probably feel worse.

Staying alone in his apartment became unbearable. Michael noticed the change as soon as he was back home. His space was no longer comfortable or his own. Instead, it felt foreign, like he didn’t belong there. He didn’t understand how so much could change in such a little amount of time. A few days prior, living there was freeing and still brought excitement. But that had changed far too quickly for his liking.

After a few different examinations, Mike was diagnosed with a concussion. When they asked if someone at home could observe him for 24 hours, he explained he lived alone. And when they asked if any family lived nearby, he lied and said no. This meant he was staying overnight, and earned him an angry conversation with the surgeon who operated on his hand. With the promise to be more careful, he thought he was going to get admitted with no more problems.

That is, until another ambulance pulled up. He watched halfheartedly as two paramedics came through the automatic doors with a stretcher in between them. Michael was about to turn his eyes for something different to watch until he was transported elsewhere, when he recognized the purple bracelet around the wrist of the person that just came in.

His eyes widened at the sight of the blonde head of hair. He began to sit up, calling out her name as he nearly tipped over. Mike quickly found the tube connected to his IV and yanked for it to come loose. The second his feet hit the floor, he was tripping over himself and would have plummeted nearly 2 meters back to the ground if one of the doctors hadn’t caught him.

“Sir,” The doctor that barely managed to catch him and two of the nurses tried pulling him back towards his bed, but he was hellbent on following that familiar face into a trauma room similar to the one she had been in at the previous hospital.

The second he stepped foot in the room, all kinds of hands were trying to push him out. Michael, with tears pooling in his eyes, managed to force past them with her name falling from his lips, “Sam!”

Upon the realization that he wasn’t a lunatic and actually knew this person, many of the doctors started returning to what they had been doing previously. The man holding him up placed him in a chair against the wall. He was being asked questions, but he couldn’t focus on that.

All he could see was the red staining through the bandages on her left wrist. The blood soaked into her clothes. The scratch marks surrounding her eyes. The bruises forming on her biceps. Mike couldn’t find the words that were trapped in his throat, fighting desperately to come out.

“Please...please don’t..” He couldn’t even say the word. He felt even more sick now.

“Michael,” The doctor that caught him finally catches his attention when he physically turns his head to face him. “Do you know if she is taking any medication? Does she have a history of depression?”

“No…” Mike thought he had stopped breathing. “Her wallet.” He watched one of the paramedics take the item from the front pocket of her jeans, pulling out both her insurance and a medical card.

He can remember the day she got the damn thing. When she officially started driving herself places after a few weeks of having her license, Sam’s mom had printed out a blank medical card so that she could list any medicine she was taking, her allergies, vaccinations, conditions, etc. She was excited to show it off and even had her mom print out another one to give to him. He was pretty sure he had thrown it away.

And this fact broke his heart.

Before their friend group meshed during their junior year, Michael had met Sam between middle school and high school. They both began volunteering for the same group in the town and were closer in age than they were with most of the others.

They hadn’t really become friends, but it wasn’t like they were enemies either. Mike would talk to her while he was there with her, but not outside of their volunteer work. He reluctantly gave her his phone number, but never answered a single one of her texts. He thought she was weird at the time.

He didn’t know if this was something new for her, or if these were thoughts she had been having for years. It never even crossed his mind that she could have secretly been thinking things like that before he had even met her. Because in reality, he didn’t know her.

Michael knew she had two sisters and a brother, but knew none of their names or how old they were, just that the brother was far younger than her. He knew her mom was a pharmacist, but he didn’t have a clue what her dad did, if he even had a job. He knew she was majoring in English, secondary education.

One of the few things he did know about Sam, was that she was mentally stronger than anyone he had ever known. He knew that nothing got to her, that she was an expert at keeping her cool. This was the case from the first day they met and had remained the same since. But watching them unravel the bandages on her wrist, Mike began to doubt that he even knew this at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No matter your gender, take Mike's advice! If you're at a bar or party, keep your drink with you at all times. It's better to be safe and get weird looks taking it to the bathroom than to end up getting drugged when your drink was unattended.


	4. Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike is faced with a dilemma when asked about Sam's health.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***TRIGGER WARNING***  
> Mentioned alcohol abuse and nausea. Implied suicide attempt. Please read at your own risk.

If there was one thing Michael Munroe was, it was impulsive. He didn’t like to wait around before making a decision, he wanted to choose and get to work immediately. Sometimes, this tended to get him into trouble. Other times, it led to some of his favorite memories thus far. It was rare that he sat down and took time to think about his options carefully. In fact, he picked his college by flipping a coin.

But this was different. He had so many different thoughts floating around in his head about what to do that he had to ask for a pen and paper to write it all down. This was foreign to him, this was something that Emily learned to do from Sam. Thinking so much with his recent blow to the head was exhausting and frustrating.

Mike was sat in a hospital bed, prepared to spend the night so the doctors could monitor his concussion, which he really wasn’t excited for. Not only were they constantly waking you throughout the night for your vitals, but Chris was constantly complaining about the symptoms he still experienced even more than a month later.

He was so confused about what he was supposed to do. He wasn’t sure if he should call Sam’s family or whether she would want to do it herself. He didn’t know if he could ask one of the others for advice in case she didn’t want them to know. Hell, maybe he never would have known this happened unless he had been in the ER when she was brought in. They could have been in the same hospital at the same time, and he never would have known she was there.

Michael also worried that maybe Sam wouldn’t want him to be the one doing this. Maybe she would prefer it if it was someone closer to her, but to be honest, who else would it be? Hannah, Beth and Josh were her best friends and they were all gone. She only ever hung out with their group, but she wasn’t necessarily very close to any of them that were left. If he didn’t do this, who would?

“Mr. Munroe?” A voice from the door called out. He turned his head to see one of the doctors that had been working on Sam in the emergency room standing, waiting to come in.

“Is she okay?” Mike immediately began to sit up, trying to keep himself from ramming his damaged fingers into anything else.

The doctor stepped close to his bed, allowing him to read _West_ off the lab coat she wore. “She’s stable, we have her ready for transport depending on what we are about to discuss.”

“Transport to where?” He knew where. He just didn’t want it to be true.

“Miss Giddings is currently a danger to herself and others. As her physician, I would like to write what is called a Form 1. This will admit her to the psychiatric ward for up to 72 hours while we complete an emergency assessment. If she is no longer a danger, she is allowed to leave even against medical advice. Otherwise, she can be held until it is safe for her to leave.” Dr. West explained.

“This would be against her will?” He was filling to the top with nerves, getting the urge to bite on his fingernails.

“She is agitated and aggressive, we have her in restraints at the moment. It is very clear that this is not what she wants, but admitting her is what I think is best for now.” She replied.

“What would happen to her if I let you take her?” He fretted.

“She would be given her own room and would only be restrained as long as she remained a danger to herself and/or others. We would likely give her some anti-psychotic medication. Once it has taken effect, we will reevaluate with Miss Giddings to see how her condition has changed. This may have been a one time thing, or it could be something she continues to suffer with, but we won’t know until then.” She answered.

“Am I- Would I be allowed to see her? Before you take her?” All Mike wanted to see was her face. If he saw her once more, awake, he could convince himself that she was okay. Or at least okay enough for him to leave her there by herself.

“I would advise strongly against that, as it could be extremely upsetting for both you and her. If you really want to, I can try asking her if she would like to see you, but I can’t promise that it will be the goodbye that you want. It could make the whole process harder for both of you.” She told him.

“Just…” He trailed off. “Please, _please_ take care of her.”

Michael didn’t sleep a wink that night. A few times, he pretended to wake up when a nurse came in to check his vitals just so he wouldn’t have to stay for longer than the night. He spent the time halfheartedly watching the house remodeling show on the small TV in the corner while losing his mind thinking about Sam.

He knew she seemed different the minute she started tearing up in the car when she picked him up from the police station. He had never even seen her eyes turn glossy, let alone seen her cry. Mike didn’t even know the last time they had hugged previous to that night. He had been tempted to hug her when the lodge was on fire as the helicopters flew overhead, but he didn’t.

Realizing he hardly knew anything about someone he called his friend was earth-shattering. He knew different facts about everyone else in the group, but Sam was like a mystery to him. Why hadn’t this crossed his mind sooner? Why was he only thinking of this now?

It felt like he had spent so much time worrying about Jess and what happened in the Sanatorium that he hadn’t thought about what he or any of the others could be feeling. Despite all the time that he had been spending driving Chris to appointments and joining Matt at the gym, he had no clue how they were doing. Ashley was so paranoid she barely left her room and even if he wanted to talk to Emily, he knew she would never respond.

Nearly two months had passed since Mt. Washington, but that was the first time Michael truly felt like he was back on solid ground. He could finally think about all the things that happened on the mountain and believe they were real, not some bad dream. Though a little frustrated and tired, he had felt fine.

Until that moment. Suddenly, it was like everything was starting to sink in. Sam had been right, he did usually need alcohol to be able to sleep. Any time that he did, he would be woken by a nightmare with something in his apartment broken. He was constantly looking over his shoulder, replaying certain images from that night in his head.

Hannah and Beth were really dead. Before, they knew it was likely after so much time had gone by, but actually knowing it was different. The two had fallen into the mine-shaft, bones breaking and blood spilling. Hannah had been taken over by the Wendigo spirit and turned into a monster that nearly killed them all.

When Mike finally got home the following morning, the first thing he did was sit on his couch and start to cry.

He didn’t hear anything from the hospital for three days. Most of his time was spent pacing back and forth in his living room, practically wearing a hole into the wooden floors. For once since their return from Blackwood Pines, he wasn’t desperately trying to get Jess to text him back or searching for information about the Sanatorium.

His nightmares had begun to change from the experiences on the mountain. Before, it had always been one of the same possibilities: a never-ending chase after Jess where he couldn't reach her, wandering aimlessly through the halls of the asylum with a maniac on his tail, pulling the trigger on the revolver in the basement, or being the Wendigo stuck inside a cage following being experimented on.

Now, however, they all included Sam in one way or another. Instead of seeing her walking past the grate in the old hotel, he saw her tied to a chair and was unable to help her. He would be pushing her away while holding Emily at gunpoint and leave her behind to deal with the repercussions of his actions. He’d be waiting at the door of the lodge for her to come out and see Hannah brutally kill her from afar without being able to save her.

Michael was confused, to say the least. After spending weeks pursuing Jessica and worrying about getting everything right in that stupid guest cabin, his mind was on another girl entirely. They had hardly spoken and yet, he had become so intrigued by her. What the hell happened to him? Did she even know what she did by merely existing?

To say that he was nervous was an understatement. All he had been told was that Sam was no longer in danger of hurting herself or anyone else and that she wanted to leave. Apparently whatever medication they had given her made her especially drowsy, so she wasn’t allowed to drive yet. Mike had been called to take her home, and he was terrified.

What if she was mad at him for letting them commit her? What if he was supposed to call someone else? What if he had done something wrong throughout the whole process? There were endless possibilities floating through his head and he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he was that anxious.

The elevator took him to the fourth floor where he followed the signs until he came to a stop outside of the psychiatric ward. After telling the woman behind the glass what he was there for, he was told to wait. For what? He didn’t know.

It felt like he was looking through those doors into an entirely different world. They were made out of a heavy metal and the windows had so many lines through them that you could hardly see through them. A security pass was needed to enter, much like in the Sanatorium on Mt. Washington. He felt sick comparing that place to the one Sam was soon going to be coming out of.

Her physician exited first, coming up to Michael with a soft smile and a handshake. “Miss Giddings is doing well, much better than she was when we got the emergency call, but obviously not back to full function quite yet. We gave her the anti-psychotics like we said we would and she slept for nearly two days straight.”

“So, she’s doing okay?” His eyebrows were furrowed and he could feel the tensity in his entire body. He hadn’t felt this rigid and stiff since they were getting questioned in the police station.

“She will explain more if she would like, but there’s only so much I can tell you myself. What I can tell you is that she should start seeing a psychiatrist on a regular basis and talk to them about starting one or two medications. She has some paperwork that will explain what exactly and some recommendations for doctors.” Dr. West said. “If you’re ready, I’ll go bring her out.”

He sucked in a deep breath, knowing he wasn't ready. “Okay.”

When Sam walked through those doors, it was like Mike was seeing her again for the first time. It had been less than four days since he last saw her, but she looked like an entirely different person. A cloth bag was in one of her hands and a manilla folder was in the other. He suspected her clothes from when she came in were inside the bag, as she was wearing a different outfit that was fairly mismatched.

And god, her hair. He didn’t know if he had ever seen it not in a messy bun before. Even when going to homecoming or prom, she always had her hair up. He hadn’t known it was long enough to flow all the way down her chest, curling at the bottom. Though she wasn’t wearing makeup when she picked him up from the police station, this was different. He was seeing her in broad daylight looking so tired he was sure she’d collapse on her way towards him.

“Hey,” Michael called softly as she came to a stop in front of him. He had no clue what he was supposed to say. How do you even say anything to someone who just went through what she did?

“..hi…” Her eyes were focused on the ground, which was something new. She was always looking to make eye contact with people, but now she seems to wants to look anywhere but at him.

“Are you ready to go?” He asked, unsure of what else to do. She merely nodded, her lips pressed together in a thin line. He slowly took the bag from her and slid the folder inside before they began walking back to the elevator.

He felt the urge to wrap an arm around her to hold her up with how slow she was walking and how groggy she looked. The bags beneath her eyes seemed to have doubled in size. She was dragging her feet. Her face was drained of color and emotion.

It was borderline terrifying for Mike. He had never been great dealing with his own emotions, let alone the feelings of others. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand how they were feeling, it’s that he didn’t know how to fix things. What could he possibly do to make such a shitty situation better? And what if he made it worse just by trying?

The tensity in the air around them was nearly unbearable. He had an endless list of questions, but he knew very well that maybe none of them would be answered. As the elevator doors closed in front of them, he knew he wanted to say something. He couldn’t go nearly a 45 minute drive in total silence when there were so many things to be said.

“How are you.. Do you want to talk?” Is all he could muster out. It was quiet for a few moments before she quietly stated,

“I don’t want to go home.” Her voice sounded so small and fragile. It was nothing like it used to be. Michael was sure that if he looked at her again, she would shatter into a million pieces right before his eyes.

“Do you want to come to my house?” His words fell out before he could think through them first. He immediately wanted to take back what he said, not out of not wanting her there, but out of not wanting to sound like such an idiot. Why couldn’t he have said her dorm room?

She turned her head, slowly looking up at him. He felt like he couldn’t breathe as he glanced more than a foot down back at her. Her eyes, green at the moment, were shimmering with tears as she spoke,

“Please?”

And at that point, Mike felt like for once he knew what to do to help her. Pull her into a tight hug and never let go until she was ready.


	5. Deserve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike tries his best to comfort Sam and gives her an offer she can't refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***TRIGGER WARNING***  
> Mentions self harm/suicide attempt. Please read at your own risk.

Sam sat silently on the couch, holding the knit blanket she had been given in the ward over herself. Despite the long sleeves on the shirt they gave her, she felt like she still had to do everything in her power to hide the bandages wrapped around her left wrist.

She didn’t entirely know what Michael knew about what happened. Her therapist in the hospital said that he had been there when she arrived and helped them get the things they needed from her wallet. She was told that he was the one who let them commit her and based on the fact that they weren’t the ones that picked her up, she doubted her family knew. And this was okay with her.

The only one she wanted to see was Hunter, but she knew she was in no state to be around him. She would probably start crying the second she saw his face because even looking at Mike without tearing up seemed impossible. Her whole body ached and her head hurt. She was tired, but she didn’t want to sleep, she just wanted to rest.

Somehow, Mike knew exactly what she needed. He turned up the heat, piled blankets onto the couch around her, and put on her favorite Disney movie (Mulan). Her eyes followed him as he came from the kitchen with two mugs in hand. She took one when he held them out, deciding on the cup that had a sunflower on it. The sides were warm and when she peered inside, she saw hot chocolate.

“Thank you.” Sam pulled her legs up to her chest, watching as he took a long sip of his own drink.

“You’re welcome.” He licked off the tiny milk mustache with a slight smile. Even if he didn’t voice it, she knew he was having a hard time with this. He wasn’t sure what to say or how to act, but just his presence was enough. It didn’t matter to her that it felt slightly awkward, because it still felt right.

She took a small sip after blowing on it a few times to make sure it wasn’t too hot. She didn’t even know the last time she had hot chocolate, which felt dumb considering how much she loved it. It was always comforting, reminding her of what it felt like being wrapped up in blankets with Beth, no matter what the season was.

A sigh escaped her lips before she could stop it and she instantly regretted it, spotting the concern on Michael’s face. She knows he’s scared. Not of her, but of what happened. And if it were to happen again. The thought made her want to start crying.

“I know you’re not okay, so I’m not going to ask you if you are,” he began. “But I worry about you...and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Sam doesn’t know either. But she doesn’t want to say nothing, so she begins speaking anyway. “I didn’t...I wasn’t trying to die..”

He let out a long breath at this, sounding of relief, but she could still see rigidity in his shoulders. “Will you tell me what happened? When you’re ready?”

“I just-” She wanted him to know, but she didn’t want to be the one to have to tell him. Part of her mind was pulling on the reins, trying to get her to stop, but she had already decided. “I don’t sleep...I mean, I do, but I wouldn’t.. They said I had PTSD and it’s giving me nightmares and sleep deprivation and…”

Her finger began to trace the rim of the mug as tears rose in her throat. She didn’t want to cry in front of him. She didn’t want to cry, period. Sam was tired of feeling so sad all the time, but she hadn’t even let herself feel anything yet. She hadn’t let herself process everything they learned on Mt. Washington. It hadn’t hit her that Beth and Hannah were really gone and that she wasn’t ever going to see them again. And she knew that when it did, it would hit her like a train.

She was pulled from her thoughts when Mike rested a hand on one of her knees, holding a tissue between his fingers. Sam took it slowly, but his hand didn’t move. He let it rest there as she tried to compose herself, but was ultimately unsuccessful.

“They said it’s not really called that anymore, but it was basically a mental breakdown.” She explained as she slowly set her mug down. Mike followed her actions. “Yelling, and.. breaking things, and...crying. It’s like after a big thing, something really small sets it off.”

Sam had to close her eyes. She couldn’t look at him as the tears started to spill out. She couldn’t face him like that. And even though it was supposed to be their secret, she wanted- No. Needed to tell him what had triggered it.

“I thought I lost Beth’s watch.” Her voice cracked and she wanted to cringe at how weak she sounded. It was pathetic. “I took it from the mines and I- I sent it to get professionally cleaned and I just...I forgot. I thought it was gone..”

“Sam,” she could hear the frown in his voice.

The blonde choked on a sob, covering her face with her hands as she whimpered out, “She’s gone.” The couch moved beneath her and before she knew what was happening, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her.

Mike slid forward until his side was pressed against her knees. He pulled her closer, allowing the top of her head to rest on his chest. She was shaking beneath his firm grip as he squeezed her tightly, trying to send any of his strength to her. He wanted nothing more than to get her to stop crying. Not because it was annoying or a hindrance, but because he didn’t want her to be sad.

He wished he could go back and stop the prank from happening. To keep the twins from running out into the woods. To keep whatever friendship Sam had with Beth going. He thought that Hannah was her best friend. She obviously loved them both, but it just became that way the less classes she had with the younger sister.

But it didn’t matter. He didn’t care that he didn’t understand or that he was confused. What he really cared about was that he was the reason she was hurting. And he would do everything in his power to try and fix it, even though he couldn’t bring the girls back from the dead. It was up to him to put the broken pieces back together.

Sam didn’t realize she was falling asleep until she was waking up. She expected to find Michael anywhere but on the couch with her, so she was thoroughly surprised to notice that he was still right beside her, an arm draped over her shoulders. He smiled weakly at her when he noticed she was awake, taking his eyes off the TV and onto her.

“I thought you would have gone.” She admitted.

“I was.. too scared to leave you on your own.” He replied.

She had to look away from his worried eyes. “I wasn’t trying to...I had broken a vase and it just..”

“I know.” He assured her, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I just didn’t want you to wake up alone if you needed me.” Sam glanced at the clock, noticing it had been almost three hours since he had picked her up from the hospital. “Thinking about your family?”

“I don’t want to tell them yet.” She whispered. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“What do you mean?” Mike furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“I don’t want to go home, but I don’t want to go back to school either.” She told him. “Everyone could hear me and my RA was the one that had to call. My grades are terrible because I can’t concentrate and I just feel so alone there.”

“You could always pull out for now.” He pointed out. “You won’t get all your money back this far into the semester, but it’s better than making yourself miserable.”

“I just don’t have anywhere else to go.” She responded.

“You can stay here if you want.” He offered, causing her eyes to go wide.

“I wasn’t trying to-”

“I know. But I have the pull-out couch and…” He trailed off. “I’m tired of feeling alone. Isolated. It’s one of my biggest fears and I.. want you to stay.”

Sam felt like she was seeing Michael through different eyes. He wasn’t a player who went from girl to girl. He was someone terrified of being alone. She wondered if this stemmed from his family and the move he had gone through. She wanted to ask, but she knew she shouldn’t.

Her mind kept returning to the photograph he had in his bedroom. Did he get his caring side from his mother? Were his nurturing skills gained from the practice on the girls in the picture? And where did his father fit in? She wanted to know how it all tied together. How it turned out that Mike became the person he was with nobody else around.

Within a few days, many things had changed. Sam moved almost all her belongings into a storage unit and only took the items she needed to Mike’s apartment. He insisted they take turns sleeping on the pull-out couch and his bed despite how much she tried to fight it. However, they have fallen asleep on the sofa watching hilariously terrible movies every night. Neither of them mentioned to the other that they hadn’t had a nightmare waking them up since Sam started staying there.

It took Michael three days of assurances from Sam to tell him she would be fine as he returned to his normal schedule. He didn’t want to leave her on her own, but also knew she needed her space. It was difficult for both of them, knowing she was incredibly independent, but still required comfort not far away. She felt weak and useless. Two things she definitely was not, and two things he would try his damnedest to convince her she wasn’t.

On the fourth day since Sam more or less moved in, she was at the apartment watching a documentary while Mike was out of the house teaching a guitar lesson. After multiple nights of staying up late and her first time doing yoga since they returned from Blackwood Pines, she was exhausted. She hadn’t even meant to fall asleep, but once it began, there was no going back.

Sam was back in the old hotel beneath the lodge. In nothing but a dirty towel, her ankles and wrists were tied to the arms and legs of a chair. Her head was tilted back, allowing her full view of the saw hanging above her neck. The ropes were digging into her skin and a hand grabbing onto a clump of her hair was keeping her from moving away.

Her voice was stuck in her throat, unallowing for her to scream for help. Josh, dressed as the maniac, was hovering over her with the mask covering his face. It was his hand painfully tugging back on her bun to expose her throat. All she could do was cry inaudibly as he began to speak,

“When will you learn, Samantha?” His distorted voice lit a fire beneath her skin, burning to get out. “I asked you my question for a reason, because I want to know your answer.”

Hearing a yell in pain, Sam’s eyes snapped away from the psycho and across the room where Michael hung. Similar to Josh in the shed, he was against a wall with a saw coming towards his stomach. Instead of being tied by his hands, both of his wrists and ankles were clamped inside of bear traps. Blood was trickling down his arms and pooling beneath his feet. The more he struggled, the more he cried out in agony and the closer the saw got.

“Sam.” The maniac yanked on her hair, bringing her attention back to him. “I told you to open your eyes.” On the ceiling above her, the same video played that she had been shown in the cinema room.

Her stomach twists at the sight of herself in the bathtub with her earbuds in, trying desperately to remember the peace she had with Beth. It was sickening to watch her take the headphones out and call the names of her friends, thinking it was merely them messing around as usual.

“You’re going to give me an answer this time.” With the push of a button, the saw dangling above her began to spin its way down towards her. “And I want you to give it to me now.”

Sam’s gaze darted back to where Michael was hanging. He had run out of strength to fight and the color was draining from his face. There was so much blood that it was soaking into his clothing and staining the floor underneath him. The saw was inches away from his gut.

“Do you think these were the last happy moments of this creature’s life?” Josh’s voice pulled her to look back at the video. She watched herself step out of the bath and wrap the white towel around her body. Her skin was so clean. Free of any scars or bruises. Her eyes still held life.

The second Mike began screaming, her tears were an unstoppable flow. She watched him desperately struggle in the traps, only shredding more layers of skin and exposing tissue. His attempts were futile as the saw finally cut the whole way through, leaving him lifelessly hanging and stained with his own blood.

Josh’s free hand grabbed the base of her neck tightly, cutting off all air flow. Sam tried pulling out of the restraints, tried thrashing in the chair, tried shaking her head from his deadly grip. All of her efforts were useless as her eyes grew heavy. Her lungs were burning and she could hardly stay awake.

Just as she thought she was going to be strangled to death, Josh removed his grip on her throat. However, before she could even take in a breath, the saw cut into her throat and sent red flying everywhere. Sam was choking on her own blood the further it sliced. She looked up towards the masked man sealing her fate as she realized,

She knew the answer to his question.

The only thing she knew as she woke was that someone was in front of her. Her screams pierced through the apartment as she pushed helplessly against their firm chest. She could only see red. Could only see the blood pouring out of Mike’s limbs and stomach. The way it splattered against the saw in her neck, against the paleness of her face. And the only thing she could hear were Josh’s horrible words.

He finally caught her wrists in one of his hands, reaching out to grab her face. “It’s me!” Her face was flushed, covered with tears. There was a blue hint to her lips and bruises forming at the bottom of her neck where she had been gripping so fiercely. He tried blinking away the tears of his own as Sam finally saw who was in front of her. “It’s me.”

“Michael!” Her arms quickly flung around him, trying everything in her power to bring him closer. He hugged her as tightly as he could, her cold skin brushing against his whilst they sat on the floor in the corner of the room.

She was shuddering in his grasp, her sobs so strong that they rattled her entire body. The only thing he could do was try and force his strength out of himself and into her by merely holding her. Mike felt useless. He wasn’t sure what more he could do for her.

What he did know, is that it was far past time the both of them got the help they deserve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the nightmare Sam had is something I've always thought of happening. Thinking back on the night and remembering Josh say to her, "Do you think these were the last happy moments of this creature's life?" really hits hard for me. I've always thought that Sam would look back on him saying that and think "yes, they were." Just a little insight into the reasoning behind that specific scene.
> 
> Thanks for continuing to read this story! More to come next Sunday!


	6. Realized

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When searching for psychiatrists, Sam and Mike run into a familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***TRIGGER WARNING***  
> Mentions throw up and suicidal thoughts. Implied drug, domestic, and child abuse. Please read at your own risk.

To say he was nervous was an understatement. Mike was terrified, which felt stupid considering he wasn’t in any danger. He also didn’t know why he was so scared, because going to therapy couldn’t possibly make things worse, right? People went to see doctors like this to get help, which was exactly what they were doing.

In order to convince Sam to come with him, he had to remind her that he was fucked up, too. That he was struggling with a lot of the same things she was, even if it hadn’t gotten that severe yet. He had to make the deal that if she was going to talk to someone, so was he. And he wasn’t sure why that made him so freaked out.

Maybe because seeing someone trained in psychology would mean they could see through all the layers he had spent so much time building up. Michael had carefully crafted a barricade around his past that no one had been inside since he was a kid. Going to see a therapist meant that everything he had experienced throughout his entire life, not just on the mountain, was going to be brought back.

He and Sam stepped off the elevator, entering into a waiting room with glass panels separating the check-in desks. A sign was placed a few feet in front of them, telling the next person to stay back in order to give privacy to whoever was currently at the desk. With nobody at either of them, they were able to step up quickly.

Mike didn’t even want to be here, but he knew he had to be. If he didn’t do this, Sam wasn’t going to get help and he would likely continue down the same path until he also ended up in a psychiatric ward. At that moment in time, he didn’t know what was worse.

His thoughts were broken out of when an angry voice proclaimed, “What are you doing here?” He turned, seeing an older man with grey, receding hair looking at Sam. “I told you I couldn’t help you.”

“I’m- I’m not…” She trailed off with wide eyes.

“Doctor patient confidentiality still remains in place even when said patient has passed. I can’t tell you anything about Joshua.” He said before using a key-card to enter a door that locked behind him.

_Josh?_

Michael was done at the desk first and the minute Sam was finished and sat in the chair beside him, he looked at her with worried eyes. “What was that all about?”

She looks down at her lap nervously. “I was here a few weeks ago...I tried asking him about Josh. I wanted- I wanted to know why he.. did what he did. Wanted to know why he didn’t see it coming and why he couldn’t stop him.”

He frowns. “I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t hard to tell that after the twins disappeared, Sam and Josh got closer. He had lost his sisters and she, her best friends. They had likely talked the most out of the group once the majority of them graduated. He hadn’t told Chris about his crush to avoid the same teasing he gave about Ashley, but he did tell Mike.

The two of them were fairly wasted, sitting on the roof of Josh’s parents’ house as they were stargazing. A blunt was passed between them for every shape they made in the stars. Many of which were stupid, such as a rock or a penis. But eventually, the older of the two had brought up the fact that some of the stars aligned to look like a hummingbird, which was apparently Sam’s favorite animal.

Josh was whipped, and it was pretty clear to Michael. At the time, he remembered thinking it was hilarious. He thought a guy like him could never go out with a girl like her, as he was far out of her league. Thinking back on it, he feels like an asshole now. If anything, Sam was out of his league. She was out of everyone’s league when he really thought about it. She deserved the entire galaxy, not just the few stars Josh associated with her.

Mike glanced at the blonde out of the corner of his eye. She was focused on twiddling her thumbs, too busy to see him looking at her. He wondered if a hummingbird was still her favorite. If she had ever stayed up so late stargazing that she ended up watching the sunrise. If she liked Josh as much as he liked her.

He knew he shouldn’t be thinking this way. His mind should be focused on Jessica, not the girl sitting beside him. But how can he when she is so deliciously intoxicating? All of his senses feel overwhelmed by the spectacle that is Sam. He finds himself wanting to drown in her scent, desperate to feel her cold skin brushing up against him.

He wants her.

And this felt like the biggest understatement he had ever made. Michael Munroe wasn’t one for commitment. The longest relationship he had had was with Emily, lasting about two years. However, he had found himself wanting out of it for probably eighteen months of that time.

To him, Jessica didn’t seem like something that would last for long. He had been suspecting that they might screw around a few times, but not experience anything intimate. There wouldn’t be much cuddling or hand holding, romantic dates or knowing the ins and outs of each other. He expected their relationship to be entirely sexual, not emotional. Up until the mountain, that seemed like it would be the case. But ever since then, it felt like nothing was there at all.

With Sam, Mike finds himself wanting every aspect of intimacy with her. He wants to be close to her, not just physically, but emotionally. He wants to know everything about her. From her favorite color to her darkest secrets, he wants to discover it all. And a terrifyingly large part of him wants to share all of himself with her.

He is sure this means he is going crazy. That it really means he needs to see a therapist to get his head screwed on straight. He couldn’t possibly want to tell her, or anybody, for that matter. Because Michael knew that when he did, any chance of getting close to her would be broken. She was too peaceful of a person to stick around after learning everything that had happened in his past.

After nearly twenty minutes of waiting, Mike’s name is called by a woman standing at the door the old man went through. Sam gives him a weak smile that he tries his best to return before following the woman into a hallway.

“Hi, Michael, my name is Lindsey, I’m the nurse for Dr. Hill and Dr. Cole.” She tells him, leading the way to a small room with a desk, vitals monitor, scale, and three chairs. He steps up when prompted, seeing that he has definitely lost weight since Blackwood Mountain. “Go ahead and take a seat. Are you taking any medications currently?”

Once he has gone through the pain meds and anti-inflammatories, he is taken back out to the hall and led to a much bigger room. This one, rather than chairs, has a large couch. A bookshelf is against the wall and nearby it is a play table, likely meant for kids. Sitting in the office chair in front of the desk, is the same old man that talked to Sam outside.

He holds his hand out for Mike to shake, but he pretends not to see it and goes to sit on the couch. “Good morning. I’m Dr. Alan Hill. Why don’t you tell me your name?”

“Don’t you already know it?” He asks.

“I do, but I want to know what you want me to call you.” The man replies.

“Mike.” He states simply.

The stranger notices his tone. “Is there something you want to say to me?”

“You shouldn’t have been an ass to Sam.” Michael puts it bluntly. “She’s already got enough shit going on, she doesn’t need anything added from you.”

“If you want to leave, the door is right here.” He motions to where it is centered in the wall. “No one is keeping you here.”

“I promised I would come, so here I am.” Mike responds.

“Unless you open yourself up to the idea of talking to a psychiatrist, you’re never going to benefit from it.” Dr. Hill explains.

“Then tell me what to do.” He already hates it here. Already hates this doctor, already hates the smell of the room, already hates the material of the couch underneath him. He wants to leave.

“I can’t make you learn, I can only give you the information and hope that it gets to you. It doesn’t matter how many times I say what needs to be said unless you are willing to hear it.” Alan says. “The first thing you need to do is take a deep breath and try to calm your nerves.”

Michael feels more tense just by him saying this. He eyes the door, wishing he could just wait outside until Sam was done and say he did it anyway. But he knows he’s not that good of an actor and she would know he was bullshitting her. She’d be able to tell the second she laid eyes on him.

He tries telling himself he doesn’t want to talk, but he’s aware that deep down, he really does. He just doesn’t want to be talking to _him._ He wants to talk to Sam or even to Jess. However, he knows neither of them are in a position to listen. Mike can’t share his struggles with them until they are no longer drowning in their own.

Trying to turn down the volume of his thoughts, he begins to pay attention to what is being said. “-and after medical school, I moved here from Sweden and met my wife. Although, that certainly took a few years. Why don’t you tell me about you? Why are you here, Mike?”

He can’t help but avoid eye contact. “Josh went along with his prank. We all got fucked up that night, by more than just him. But I can’t tell you what because the police don’t want the real story getting out.”

“Just like I told Sam, doctor patient confidentiality is always into play. I’m not allowed to say anything to anyone unless you give me permission or you are at risk of hurting yourself or others.” Alan assures him. “Whatever you say here stays here.”

“I don’t even know where to start.” Mike begins tugging at a loose string on the bandages of his fingers.

“Here,” when he looks back up, Dr. Hill is holding out a shoe box that has been filled with different toys. Playdough, a rubix cube, a slinky, and other kinds of fidget toys. “Go ahead and pick one.” He sighs before taking out a black cube with 8 connected smaller squares, all of which constantly flip in different directions no matter which way you turn them. “You can start wherever you feel comfortable, it doesn’t have to be from Blackwood Pines.”

His mind almost immediately turns to Nebraska. He hadn’t been back in nearly eight months. Michael can no longer remember off the top of his head the way his bedroom is laid out. Or how many stairs there were from the first floor to the second. Or what color the siding of the house is. Hell, he couldn’t even remember his mother’s voice.

Thinking back to their small town makes his head hurt. It feels as though all his memories there are drowned out by the mountain. By his father. He couldn’t even tell you what day of the week he had been made to pack up and move away without the chance to say goodbye. It was all such a blur even though he was certainly old enough to remember. It hadn’t even been a full seven years yet. It felt like a lifetime more.

What he can remember involves none of the things that he wants to remember. Instead of his sisters’ laughs, he hears his father shouting profanities and derogatory statements at his mother. He hears her pleading for him not to take her only son away. He hears bones breaking and himself crying.

Instead of his grandmother’s homemade cookies, he smells the burning of skin. He smells the vomit that clings to the air. He smells marijuana and the breath of someone who would smoke a pack of cigarettes a day.

And instead of seeing his mother’s face, he sees the blood running down his own back. He sees the lines of cocaine made neatly on the table. He sees the gun resting against his forehead and the way his father smiled at the dying man in front of them.

Mike can still remember it as if it was yesterday. Rather than memories of his childhood home and holding his sisters for the first time, he sees that man’s face staring back at him. He was in agony, but there was nothing he could do without the risk of ending up just like him. It didn’t matter that the person with the gun was his father, he wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot him in the slightest.

Sure, he knew how to recognize he had broken a rib and to take it easy. And of course, over time, he learned very messily how to stitch himself up. But he knew there was no way he could recover from a gunshot. At that moment, it had been aimed at his head. He wouldn’t have survived anyway.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t wonder what would have happened if he tried to save that man. Sometimes, it was all he thought about. There had been a moment in the hospital after they got off the mountain where he wished his father would have pulled the trigger. It was a split second that was immediately followed up by him denying ever thinking that. But Michael knew the truth, no matter how unwanted it was.

The appointment was over before he even knew it really began. He and Dr. Hill scheduled more times to meet, starting with once a week. His feet felt unsteady beneath him as he left his office and the hallway. In the waiting room, Sam was already standing until he arrived. Had he really taken longer than her?

“You okay?” Her face immediately shows concern.

Mike blinks at her. “What?”

“You look really pale.” She answers. “Are you feeling alright? You haven’t opened your fingers back up?”

He glances down at them, seeing that the bandages are still white instead of pink with blood. “I…” His thoughts feel clustered and dizzy. He has a headache pounding in the back of his head. What the hell was wrong with him? “I think I’m more fucked up than I realized.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, but I live for the angst.
> 
> More to come!


	7. Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike struggles to connect with Jess and gets a shocking phone call from the police.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***TRIGGER WARNING***  
> Implied alcohol abuse. Please read at your own risk.

Three days later, Michael finds himself sitting on the couch watching as Jessica puts a movie into the DVD player. She rejoins him carefully, placing herself at least six inches away from him. The blanket they are sharing is stretched far enough that it barely covers both of them. He wants to be closer to her, but he knows she would just push him away.

She hardly even wanted him talking to her, let alone touching her. It was rare that the two of them spoke when he came over, as they would usually just watch a film or two before she would send him home. If they were texting, Jess’ replies were as short as she could get them, normally consisting of only one word if it was manageable.

This made every second Mike tried to spend with her frustrating as all hell. It’s not that he didn’t understand, because believe me, he did. He felt as though for him to heal, he needed to be close to her. He wanted to hold her so he could remind them both that she was safe and he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He wanted to know what she was feeling and tell her what was going through his head.

But Jess doesn’t even want to talk about things unrelated to the mountain. She doesn’t want to hear about something funny a kid said during a lesson or see a picture he took at the dog shelter he started volunteering at. She doesn’t want to talk about what she has been learning in school or even the movies they watch.

And this kills him.

As she begins to navigate the menu screen of the modern Annie remake, Mike tries to make conversation. “You know, now that your physical therapy is over, maybe we could start going out sometimes.”

Jessica stiffens. “I don’t know..”

“I’m not saying we have to go walk around the mall for three hours or go horseback riding. Maybe we could just go out for dinner somewhere.” He suggests. “What about that Italian place you always used to talk about?” He’s come to hate that phrase over the past two months. Used to.

“I think I just want to stay at the house.” She states, pressing play on the remote. Michael frowns.

She _used to_ love going out. He _used to_ always make her laugh. They _used to_ be happy. It feels as though whenever he is talking about the two of them, he is speaking in the past tense. He knows that things are different now that they’re back. He knows almost everything has changed for both of them. Mike isn’t expecting for things to go back to the way they were. He just wants to know what the hell she’s thinking.

With the start of a new week, Sam had begun looking for a part-time job to occupy some of her time, but still give her enough to spend at home processing things. This had been a recommendation from her own psychiatrist, Dr. Cole. He knew she was nervous about starting to work again, but he also knew she was looking forward to not always being alone with her thoughts. He knew she was excited about the idea of getting better.

He didn’t know what Jess thought about cyberschool versus public school. He didn’t know if she was upset that she wouldn’t get to walk across a stage at graduation. Michael wasn’t sure what she thought about talking to Ashley about her feelings, a suggestion he made since she was leaving the house even less than her.

One of the few things he did know is that she and Matt had been talking. At first, this confused him to no end, until he mentioned that he had found her in the mines and led her to safety. He was happy that she was at least speaking with someone, but it hurt that it wasn’t him. It hurt to hear Matt tell him that Jess didn’t think he would understand.

His phone begins to buzz in his back pocket. When he takes it out to see who it is, his eyebrows furrow in confusion. “It’s the police station in Blackwood.”

“You should answer it.” Jess responds.

“Are you sure?” Mike would gladly reject the call if he wanted her to, but she merely nods at him. He tosses the blanket off his legs and gets off the couch, going to head into the kitchen. She doesn’t pause the movie as he exits the room. “Hello?”

“Hi, Michael. This is Sergeant Gray. Is now a good time to talk?” The slightly familiar voice asks.

“Yeah, I guess.” He says. “What’s going on? I thought you guys were done asking me questions.”

“I’m not contacting you about what happened in February. I’m calling to inform you that a search team of three of our officers went missing two nights ago.” Gray tells him.

Mike’s eyes widen. “What?”

“Do you know anything about this?” The man inquires.

“Of course I don’t know anything about it, what the hell are you talking about?” Michael is sick of the police not believing what he says. He’s tired of them accusing him of things he never did and asking questions they already have the answers to. “We told you guys not to let anyone stay out past sunset, you can’t blame us for you not listening.”

“Regardless, we need you and your friends to come to the station in two days. There are some things we need to discuss.” Gray adds. Mike doesn’t even say anything else, he just ends the call and passes a hand over his tired face.

He didn’t know how many Wendigos were left. Jack had killed six, he killed four, and Sam killed three. Seven of them were trapped in the Sanatorium, but he didn’t know if those that had come to the lodge had escaped their cages or came from elsewhere. It was entirely possible that there were at least five more on Blackwood Mountain, ready to take their next victims.

The thought that Josh could be one of them was sickening. He had no clue where in the mines he would have ended up. If he was desperate, trapped, freezing, and starving, he didn’t know if the spirit was strong enough to have the person eat themselves or not. Maybe there didn’t even need to be someone else with them.

Michael couldn’t help the guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders. It felt like it was suffocating him, trying to pull him back underground into the mines to suffer the same fate. He had never in his life frozen up like that before. Not even with the weight of a gun in his thirteen year old hands. Why then? Why couldn’t he do anything?

Despite what he had been told by the police, Dr. Hill, and even Sam, he blamed himself entirely for not saving Josh. He could have done something, _anything._ Even if he had just shouted like Sam had when they were in the lodge, it would have been better than merely standing there. His remorse was debilitating.

“Mike?” He flinched when he heard Jess’ voice, completely trapped in his own thoughts. She stood a few feet away, eyes glossy and hands fiddling with the case on her phone. “You need to go.”

“What?” His voice sounded so defeated.

“I just got the same call as you.” She mumbled, keeping her eyes away from his. “I want you to leave.”

“You don’t want to talk about this?” He asks sadly.

“No.” She shakes her head. “Please, just go.”

“Jess,” his call after her became useless as he watched her run up the stairs, disregarding the paused movie on the television and the full bowl of popcorn sat on the coffee table.

He slammed his fist down on the kitchen counter in anger before turning and walking out the door. Michael hadn’t gripped the wheel in his truck that tightly for weeks. His mind was craving a drink, but he knew it wouldn’t help. Getting wasted again wasn’t going to fix his problems. In fact, it would probably make them worse.

In the drive back to his apartment building, everything was antagonizing. The sound his portable mug made as it shook in the cup holder. How his blinkers ticked every time he had to make a turn. A driver in front of him not going as soon as the light went from red to green. His blood was boiling beneath his skin.

Dr. Hill had said something to him about the possibility of feeling a variety of different emotions after the events in Blackwood Pines. He explained that it didn’t just have to be depression or paranoia, but could widely range to envy or anger. A piece of Mike was so tired of being mad. He was sick of the rage pent up within himself. He had been resentful ever since the interview in the police station once it was all over.

But it wasn’t really over, was it? He still relived the moments on that mountain day in and day out. His mind had grown accustomed to playing tricks on him, making him think that someone was following him or a Wendigo was waiting in the shadows for him to move. Hearing a bump in the night, or even in broad daylight, had him freezing in place, refusing to even breathe.

What was left of his fingers usually burned like a fire underneath his skin. He could still feel the bear trap clamping down around them. In his head, he would be wiggling the tips of his fingers. But when he looked down, all he could see were the nubs twitching back and forth. The pain medications he was on weren’t enough to get rid of the ghostly feeling that had remained ever since he sliced the machete through them.

Mike hadn’t realized that he was back in the parking lot of the apartment building until he heard a knock on the passenger window. It took him a good ten seconds to convince himself that it wasn’t a Wendigo tapping on the glass, waiting until he moved to rip apart his stomach with its claws. When he finally glanced over, he saw Sam standing outside the truck.

With furrowed eyebrows, he unlocked the door and she clambered inside. Her hair was back into its usual bun, and Michael would be lying if he said he didn’t miss seeing it down. She hadn’t worn a short sleeve shirt since coming back from the psychiatric ward, which made him want to roll up her sleeves and brush his fingers against her skin, promising that he didn’t care how many scars littered her body.

He wants to curse himself for having such thoughts after just trying to reconnect with Jessica, but he can’t help himself as she begins to speak, “I don’t think punching your steering wheel is going to help.” She smiles lightly at him.

“Better than getting into another damn fight.” The abrasions on his knuckles had finally started healing now that he wasn’t slamming them into someone’s face every few nights. “What are you doing here?”

“Just got back from job searching.” Sam tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear, but it was short enough that it just got knocked back into her face. Michael wants to curl his fingers through it. “What about you? I thought you were with Jess.”

The mere mention of her name makes him sigh. He’s so tired of trying to give her everything when he has nothing to give in the first place. His limited energy had become precious due to the lack of sleep, and he felt as though he was wasting it on her. This, of course, only added to the guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders.

“She doesn’t seem to want me around.” He finds it hard to look at the blonde sitting next to him. Every time he does, he wants to pour himself out and ask her to do the same. He just wants to have someone to hold, to remind him that he really is back on solid ground. The more he thinks about it, the more he wants it to be Sam and not Jess.

“I can’t even imagine...it must have been so hard being alone down there the whole night.” She shakes her head to herself.

Mike’s words are spilling out of his mouth before he has a chance to stop them. “So is sacrificing yourself to make sure everyone else has time to get out.” She peers over at him timidly. “Hannah could have killed you.”

Sam _shrugs._ “She could have killed all of us.” He can’t help but be in awe at her.

“How did you do it?” He asks. “How could you possibly have been fine with the thought of dying just to save the rest of us?”

“I wasn’t fine, Michael.” She admits. “All I could think about was what the hell my parents were going to tell my brother. But if that was him in the lodge with me, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. I didn’t want to be the person that would do it for family, but not for my friends. If I didn’t stay, who was going to?”

“You should have let me do it.” He responds. “I _wanted_ to do it.”

She knows that this may be the only opportunity she gets to ask him. “You had just as much to lose as the rest of us.”

He is scoffing before he can remind himself not to. “Yeah, right.” Sam frowns. So something did happen to his family? Her suspicions seem to be confirmed when his eyes widen in panic. “I mean- uh…”

For a few moments, neither of them say anything. They are stuck, frozen in time as the world continues to go on outside of the truck. She wants him to say the words that she can practically see running through his head. She wants nothing more than to hear everything she has been missing since they became friends. But unfortunately, his lips remain tightly pressed together, keeping his secrets locked inside.

“Mike-”

“I was going to kill him.” He cuts her off, refusing to make eye contact. “That man, Jack. He was the one I followed into the sanatorium after Jess. I thought he was the one who did it and I was.. I was going to do it.”

Sam doesn’t know what to say, but he thankfully continues. “If I had the chance, I would have murdered him in cold blood. It’s like I wasn’t even me anymore, I was turning into...someone I swore I’d never become.”

“You’re not a killer.” She wants to reach out and take his hand, however, it seems like he doesn’t want to be touched. “I don’t think you would have done it.”

 _Oh, but I would have,_ he wants to say. He wants to tell her everything he planned on doing to that poor bastard. He wants to explain how he knew how to get what he wanted and why Jack wouldn’t have stood a chance against him, even with a flamethrower. Mike’s heart is begging for him to dive head first, to lay everything out in the open for her. But his head tries its hardest to silence these pleas, no matter how much it hurts to do.

Michael would have ended up in prison, right alongside his father, for the very same reason. He had killed that stranger for less than he would have killed Jack, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Hell, for what he planned on doing to him, he may have gotten a worse sentence since his father merely shot that man.

The wolves weren’t even a factor in his mind. If he had to, he would have killed them, too. He would have strung that old guy up to watch him die, likely beating him to death if he didn’t break his knuckles before it was over. With the machete, his threat of ripping his nuts off one at a time was more serious than he wanted it to be.

To tell Sam the truth would be to explain that he was scared of himself. Scared of all the things he had witnessed as a young teenager, the things he had seen so often he learned how to do them. His anger had clearly come from his father, yet another trait belonging to him that he wanted to burn to ash. A piece of him was terrified that one day, he would follow in his footsteps.

Hell, he nearly _did._

If he had just gotten a little closer, he would have been just as bad as the man that failed to raise him. Because while that officer was right, he didn’t have any police or military training, the training he did receive was far, far worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of the pre-written chapters, so I'm not sure how consistent they will be updated from here on out. I'll do my best to write when I can, so make sure to subscribe to the story so you'll know when new parts are posted. Thank you for reading!


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